Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny

Three things here, ok?

ONE: I almost pulled yesterday’s post because I thought it was ‘stupid’. You continue to surprise me with your comments. I should know by now that anything to do with my beloved George is probably not stupid.

TWO: Name the artist and the song in the post title and you will have my undying respect. No cheating, k? I’ll even give you some more lyrics:

Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny
But now you're sad, your mama's mad
And your papa says he knows that I don't have any money 
Tell him this is last chance to get his daughter in a fine romance
Because a record company, Rosie, just gave me a big advance

AND THREE: See this mountain? I hiked up this mountain last Tuesday. If you look closely, you can see the ocean to the very far right. Look closely again and you can see my two favorite guys. They’re about an inch to the left of center.

So what do I do this morning? It’s my first day back to work. I get up early to get ready. Then I put together a lunch and snack, grab a half cup of coffee for the ride, and head out the door. George happens to be nearby and sees me and I begin to move down the cement walk that leads to the driveway when I suddenly take a mis-step between the edge of the walkway and the low-lying lawn and I went sprawling, landing on my left knee and turning my ankle. I was completely surprised and in a lot of pain, covered in coffee and all my belongings all over the place.

I wanted to cry for the pain but I had to get up. I couldn’t get up though. My knee . . . my friggen ankle . . . Between clenched teeth, I said to George, “GO. GET. DADDY.”

He looked me and then laid down next to me. “GEORGE. GO”, I told him.

“GO.GET. DADDY.”

I try to call my husband’s name. George got up. And he looked at me.

“GO”, I tried again, “GET. DADDY”.

And then he licked me. And that’s when I began to cry. I forced myself to stop, though. And then I forced myself up. Slowly, I managed to get myself up and hobble into the house where I cleaned the coffee and the blood from the scratches off my arms. And then I began crying. Damnit.

But crying made it feel better.

As I did, I realized how lucky I was that this happened AFTER our trip to Maine. And how really lucky I was that I didn’t turn my ankle on that mountain. With my ankle and my knee throbbing, I suddenly realized how completely lucky I was. I mean, if you’re going to fall in the first place, that is.

I did eventually make it to work, on time no less, lashing ice packs on my knee and my ankle all day, changing them to keep them cold. The ankle is doing ok as I sit with it up in our oasis of air conditioning tonight. And the knee is just badly bruised and scraped. And someday I’ll look back on this and it will all be funny.

Hell, I am already smiling.

Respectfully submitted,